New Beginnings
by Clara-Watson
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is about to start living alone again when everything gets turned upside down by a mysterious visitor from Sherlock's past. (Set after the Wedding- ignoring the rest of season 3. Sherlock is very OOC but it's explained. Warning – may contain possible triggers.)


_**Silent Night**_

_Based after the wedding, just shortly after Sherlock leaves. Completely ignoring the last episode of season 3, we've created are own little world where episode 3 is irrelevant._

Sherlock pulled his collar up against the cold breeze that had come quietly out of nowhere. Of course, it didn't come from nowhere; anyone could have read a weather forecast and _deduced_ that based on the information that appeared.

He had left the wedding early. It wasn't as if anyone needed him anymore; John and Mary had to look after each other and the new baby on the way, he had done his job a bit too well with Janine and had found her someone, Molly had Tom, Mrs Hudson had Lestrade and Mycroft wasn't even there. Everything had come full circle – he was alone again.

Sherlock began to search his pockets for his phone when he thought of something else. _Everything's not full circle yet._ He turned around and started walking towards the nearest possible dealer. Maybe he'd find someone who knew his favourite solution, if he was lucky. Walking past, what he perceived to be, an empty gazebo he heard a small shuffle of fabric.

It would be passed off by any normal human being as a bush ruffling in the breeze, but it was in no doubt the ruffle of fabric from a dress. He ruffled his hair and turned towards the empty gazebo with the music playing in the background. Nobody seemed to be there but he still wasn't quite sure. Either way, no one would be able to stop him from doing this. It was his choice.

Turning back towards the alley he walked into the comforting shadows and stepped back into the man he once used to be. He could see someone else at the end of the alley, waiting for someone or something. Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, I don't suppose you could help me." Sherlock asked. _Damn, I'm being too polite._ He needed to get back into the right façade.

"Depends on what you're looking for. What can I interest you in?" A feminine voice replied back. Sherlock should have realised that her voice was too polite for any usual drug dealer, but he didn't. He was much too preoccupied with his emotions. He was drowning in them. _Mycroft was right. Don't get involved._

"Drugs. A seven percent solution if you have one." A needle was pressed into his hand, two hands closing his palm around it. Sherlock shied away from the touch. Drug dealers weren't normally this… touching.

"Just this once. But only if you dance with me." Now this were getting to the normal side of things; if there was such a thing as normal in this situation. Most dealers wanted different forms of payment depending on what they like. This certainly wasn't the weirdest one Sherlock had ever heard of. He didn't care anymore. He'd do whatever they asked, just as long as they gave him what he needed. The woman leant forward, until her lips were just touching his ear, "and I promise not to tell John."

"What, what did you say?" Sherlock stammered as a hand was placed lightly on his shoulder.

"There's a party going on, isn't there? Dance with me." The words seemed to come from a small child, someone who'd uttered the words many times yet never said them to any particular person. "I know you like dancing." His hand was grabbed and he was dragged towards the building. "And I know you like this song." Sherlock listened as _You and Me _by _Lifehouse_ started, he'd never told anyone that he liked that song.

It was two steps; that was all it took. Two well-known steps that set his mind in motion, he _did _like dancing, especially with someone who knew how to dance too. It was nice. She began to softly sing the chorus, her head resting lightly on his chest. It was familiar and comfortable, something he was brought up to despise. Just as he was becoming a little too comfortable the song dropped off and a light kiss was placed on his cheek, the woman returned to the shadows.

"Thank-You, Sherlock." The voice whispered, "Take care, and no more." He saw the faintest glimmer of a smile, then a red skirt and fleeting clicks of high heels down the alleyway behind him, turning into the reception party.

Sherlock watched as the woman walked off, shell-shocked. He stumbled forward slightly, unsure of what exactly had transpired before. Who was that woman and how did she know him or John? Why did she go to the reception party after they had finished dancing? There was really only one way to find out and Sherlock was not an advocate for that. Going back inside was out of the question.

Regaining himself, Sherlock turned on his heel and started walking towards Baker Street, taking a shortcut through the gazebo as he tried to clear his head.


End file.
